Week 81 - Starting Late & Being Kinda Patriotic

Thursday #82 – I woke up this Thursday just before 9am with group texts from The Hot One, The Wine Buff and Legally Blonde coordinating their meeting time and place for a view of the ANZAC Day march. I felt like a pretty rubbish Australian when I woke up and saw on facebook how many of my friends had been up for dawn services at 4.30am while I lay there sound asleep. I did really enjoy my sleep-in though and I think the whole point of the day is appreciating the sacrifice these people made so that can have the lives we do today – it just so happened that that day I really needed sleep and I certainly appreciated the public holiday granting me that.

After some weetbix for breakfast I sat down to catch up on some episodes of Dexter. After being consistently behind for about 5 years (despite the fact there is only 10 hours worth of show a year to watch) I am almost caught up and should be ready for the next season when it kicks off in June. I was VERY excited to see a guest appearance by My All Saints Buddy who had starred on the Australian TV show and been harassed by me at a particularly rowdy birthday party in 2007.  I briefly flicked to the ABC to catch some of the dawn service in Gallipoli and to make myself feel like less of a terrible person. Made myself a massive salad for lunch (perhaps preempting the huge dinner I would have) and waited for DTM to finish whatever important business it was he was doing so we could head off for the day.

With invites flooding in from The Hot One, DTM's Version of M-Dizzle, The Bass Player and The Weather Girl – we eventually ended up at The Argyle with plans to see The Bass Player in action and then pop down the street to say hello to The Hot One and whoever else was still out with her at this late hour. We got there about 4pm and enjoyed watching The Bass Player and his band play classic Aussie songs which they absolutely detest since they are fancy musicians and all that.

When DTM left me at a table to mind drinks while he went to the bathroom, I made friends with The Watsons – a group of 3 guys and 2 girls who are apparently all related (brothers, cousins, wives and whatnot) and claim to be from the northern beaches despite speaking with a variety of changing accents. I'm not sure what was going on but I had one whispering “don't look at his beard” in my ear while The Bearded Watson told stories about his younger days at The Surf Rock, paedophile jokes were being made and falling flat and The Watson Wives were assuring me that they were actually nice people whilst querying where DTM had gone and why he just left me there.

When DTM returned he brought with him The Bass Player and The South African Sounding Watson proceeded to introduce me to them as “Hillary”. If only that was the first time I'd been called Hillary, sadly it brought back flashbacks of a trip to the snow in primary school and a week of being called Hillary of the Hills by The Cute Ski Instructor who I couldn't bear to correct. We stayed there for a bit and had a few champagnes and ciders before deciding to head off and find something to eat. By this stage The Hot One had left and it was becoming obvious we weren't going to be catching up with anyone else. We ended up at Jackson's On George for dinner (because we're sophisticated and romantic like that) and my beef burger quite possibly contained a whole cow. It helped soak up the ciders but also helped contribute to a growing belly.

We opted for a cab home just before 10pm and settled in to watch a movie. I'm led to believe it was called Broken City but after being told it starred Russel Crowe I really wasn't paying that much attention. I tried my best to stay awake as Marky Mark stalked Catherine Zeta Jones but Russel Crowe's fake tan and bad American accent all proved too much and I fell asleep before the end. I'm fairly confident I didn't miss much.

A quiet start to this Thursday but a good one nonetheless as we enjoyed some booze and some tunes and a public holiday. Any Thursday not spent at work is a good Thursday.

Week 80 - Waiting For Patients & Waiting For Drunks

Thursday #81 – my day was not off to a good start when I saw my first patient of the day shared a name with CBB. That woman appears to be haunting me, but hiding her from my facebook newsfeed has certainly helped. Now, instead of wanting to slap her with every post that clogs up my facebook; I can decide when I want to see her riveting posts about her psychic ability, “hilarious” toddler, unborn baby (whose gender reveal at the ultrasound went against those earlier claims of psychic powers) and “amazing” fiancé. I for one can't wait for next month and their 1 year anniversary – special for both of them as neither has been in a relationship longer than 9 months...no they definitely are not rushing into this marriage. In the true spirit of her namesake, Patient #1 managed to drive me mental. Apparently, despite only making the appointment the day before, she had thought her 8.45 appointment was at 9.15 and as such turned up 30 minutes late to her 45 minute appointment. Not impressed.

With school holidays in full swing I was uncharacteristically busy and did not get to enjoy my usual bludge of a Thursday afternoon. On the bright side it did make the day go quicker. After work I headed home for an hour or so before The Drunk Bro picked up DTM, The Cabbie and I and drove us all to Belrose Hotel for dinner. I was a little reluctant given it was school holidays and I had heard that place can get pretty hectic at dinner in the hols, not to mention the fact with The Drunk Bro driving I had no say in when I could leave. Yes I do get my information from The Trivia Host who had posted on facebook about a rather busy Tuesday night of trivia.

My portuguese chicken burger was delightful and was washed down nicely with some pear ciders. School holidays did indeed make the hotel busier and we waited about 45 minutes for our meals. The Drunk Bro and The Cabbie ordered after DTM and I so we were pretty much finished by the time they got their food. It was looking like I wouldn't be heading home anytime soon. At this thought, DTM decided to check out the pokies. After insisting he was only going to play $5 (and then 5 more and 5 more and 5 more) he eventually won and ended up $15 ahead – personally I'm not sure it's that much of a win if you have to risk more than that before making any money. Pokies just are not my thing. I love winning money but have long be a bad gambler as my absolute hate of losing money far outweighs any possible benefit...maybe if there were better odds I would be willing to reconsider.

The Drunk Bro was by this stage, as keen as I was to get home but The Cabbie, unable to drink wine without a meal, had finished one beer before dinner and then had a whole bottle of red to get through when his meal finally arrived at about 8.30. With The Drunk Bro driving and DTM and I not so keen on red, it was a long wait to watch him finish. I remain the only one who finds his nightly consumption of a bottle of wine (more often than not with some beers as well) a tad excessive.

Not the best Thursday as I seemed to spend most of it waiting – either for patients to arrive or people to finish drinking but it could've been worse. Dinner was nice.

Week 79 - Seeing Old Patients & Seeing Old Friends

Thursday #80 – this Thursday kicked off with a bunch of oldies testing my patience. I was fully booked up until lunch and somehow, despite a lot of these older patients being booked in for long appointments anyway, I managed to go over time and cut my lunch down to just 25 minutes. I was not a happy camper.

The afternoon, as it often is on a Thursday, was decidedly more cruisy. I made up for my short lunch with an hour break at 2.30 and another hour of nothing at 4.00. These breaks are proving handy for writing this blog – the only problem is remembering what I did a week later.

After work I briefly popped home, said hi to DTM then made my way to West Ryde for dinner with my old contiki pals. I know what you're thinking – I went somewhere that started with the word “west” and believe me I was hesitant too. Apparently West Ryde was a good midpoint as we travelled from Forestville, Glebe, Parramatta and somewhere near The Blue Mountains to get there. I'm not so sure, I spent almost an hour in the car which was significantly longer than the Parramatta crew. I had my trusty google maps directing me and made it there about 5 minutes early. I had allowed extra time for traffic but was starting to think my estimates may be off when the map refused to update its time as I sat in traffic and it said I was 38 minutes away for over 10 minutes of sitting on the pacific highway. Managed to find a park not too far away from the West Ryde Hotel and applauded myself on an excellent reverse park. It wouldn't be until hours later when we returned to our cars that I realised I was parked in front of a driveway. Luckily I got away with it, except of course for the ridicule from my old contiki pals and jokes about the optometrist not being able to see – hilarious.

I was the first one to arrive and busied myself at the ATM while I waited for the others. I had agreed to the night as I really had no legitimate reason not to but I was not super psyched for this reunion. The first four days of my contiki tour in 2005 were awesome, I was having the time of my life (and yes I did just quote our day song which blared on the bus every morning for 28 days) and had already made a tight little group of friends with The Oh-You-Won't-To-Talk-To-Us Westie Sister With A Complex, The Other Westie Sister and The J'ai Perdu Mon Sac Girl. Everything changed that fateful night in Barcelona on the 22^nd of September.

To recap briefly: after a few too many sangrias on the beach, my bag (complete with passport, license, credit card, cash and camera) was yanked off my arm by a sneaky Spaniard as we waited for a taxi back to the hotel. I set off in pursuit but didn't get too far before falling over (as evidenced by the bruises on my arms and grass stains on my jeans). In tears, I made my way back to the club where everyone else was drinking, accompanied by The J'ai Perdu Mon Sac Girl. I finally made my way back to the hotel and eventually into bed. The next morning, despite being stupidly drunk and losing her bag the first night in Paris and relying on me to help her get home safe, The J'ai Perdu Mon Sac Girl stopped by my room to tell my roomies what had happened and essentially pass on the message that I was too much trouble and she did not plan to help with my exciting day of filling out police reports. This was when The Fake Vegetarian, The Professional Actor and The Melbourne Nurse all stepped up and became my new crew.

I was pretty unimpressed that my seemingly tightnit group had fallen apart after one drunken night and a robbery that was not really my fault. They didn't seem to appreciate that I was in fact the victim in this scenario. Needless to say, after the events in Barcelona, I felt a little bit weird and out of place with the two Westie Sisters and The J'ai Perdu Mon Sac Girl who had effectively kicked me out of the group with 3.5 weeks still remaining on tour. I occasionally hung out with some other people – The LA Sisters, The Primary School Teacher, The Kiwi Translating Husband & Wife Team, and others, but mostly spent my days with The Fake Vegetarian, who was a lovely person but not always the most fun and had a tendency to eat my chocolate – always willing to trade but knowing I don't like the dark crap she buys.

So back to Thursday, after getting my cash out, I nervously waited for the others to arrive, well aware that I was going to struggle through awkward conversation for most of the night. The Oh-You-Won't-To-Talk-To-Us Westie Sister With A Complex and her fiancé were the first to arrive and we managed to get through some small talk without too much awkwardness before the next person, The Very Proud Bulldogs WAG, arrived. We found ourselves a table and got through the basics – new jobs, new men, new houses, new nieces while we waited for The Primary School Teacher and The Kiwi Translating Husband & Wife Team to arrive.

I was very relieved when they did arrive as having never been part of their group, I felt less awkward around them as they also hadn't ditched me 4 days in. I realise it has been almost 8 years but to a young 18 year old that stuff hurt. I spent a big part of my night catching up with The Kiwi Translating Husband who had mistakenly believed I was some sort of journalist in my contiki days. We had realised about halfway into the tour that a newsagency was not in fact called that in New Zealand and I had led these Kiwis to believe I worked at a newspaper rather than at a Dairy (as I'm told it's called in NZ). Halfway through the night, The Kiwi Translating Husband switched seats with his wife and I got to catch up with her – the night was going much better than I had anticipated.

We stayed until they kicked us out, reminiscing and laughing at the crazy shenanigans from our European Panorama. Toga parties, skinny dipping, parties with the Swiss army, allegations of meat poisoning and dancing on tables were all discussed and it became increasingly obvious that I was the only one aware of my perceived outcast status.

I drove home in about half the time it took me to get there and was happy to report to DTM that it really hadn't been as bad as I was expecting. It's not every Thursday you catch up with people you haven't seen since your teens.

Week 78 - Catching Up & Winning Meat

Thursday #79 – this Thursday I was reminded of my slackness after texts from Legally Blonde and The Hot One demanding more blogs. The verdict is still out on whether or not Legs 11 even reads these ramblings...and fair enough. With my first patient of the day running late (and turning up 27 minutes into his half hour appointment) I had a bit of spare time to try and work out what on earth I had been doing the past two weeks. As I wracked my brain trying to remember how I had spent my Thursdays without free movies, I vowed to be more on the ball when it came to writing this blog.

As I looked at the date on the calendar, I had a little reflection on the fact it would have been Heath Ledger's 34^th birthday this Thursday. It was only 10 days earlier that I had been remembering the 10 year anniversary of some very excited 16 year olds meeting Heath and having photos taken with him. I still have the signed pillow, book and framed photos and while I am by no means the obsessed teenager I once was, it still saddens me to think that he died at 28 and left behind a 2 year old daughter.

With my reflecting out of the way I got typing as I had a particularly quiet afternoon with no patients booked in after 3pm. I was so on top of the blog I was even thinking about what I was doing as I was doing it – ready to record. Sadly it has still taken me a week to get to writing about it and suddenly it seems much less exciting and memorable.

After work I headed home and got changed, ready to head to The Belrose Hotel with DTM and The Cabbie. Usually my time at The Belrose Hotel is spent competing in trivia on a Tuesday night so it was a bit strange heading there on a trivialess Thursday. DTM felt like we needed to go to dinner with The Cabbie to get him out of the house – I think it was all a bit of a front as The Cabbie seems to get out more than DTM. Not wanting me to drive (because apparently it is important for me to get drunk on a Thursday night with DTM and his dad), DTM had arranged for the courtesy bus to pick us up at 6pm.

As our free transport pulled up at the house, I couldn't help feeling a little bad as I had no plans to drink more than a cider or 2 and could quite easily have driven us there and home. I was kinda relieved though as I am not the most confident of drivers and the idea of driving The Cabbie somewhere did terrify me slightly. I think DTM knew this and used the “I want you to be able to drink” line as an excuse. Well played.

We picked out our meals and made use of our shop-a-dockets to get some discounted din dins and a cheeky pear Bulmers. Some soccer club locals came around selling raffle tickets and DTM and The Cabbie each bought some. Not me – not only did the idea of a meat tray not excite me enough to want to part with my cash, but also it felt wrong supporting Belrose Terrey Hills soccer and not my own Forest Killarney. I may not be playing this year but I'm no traitor. We caught a glimpse of one of the super meat trays and spent the next hour hoping we wouldn't win as there was no way it was gonna fit in our fridge/freezer/bellies.

Sure enough, being probably the only entrants not wanting to win, we took home one of the two super meat trays with enough beef to feed a small army. The chunks of steak, whole chicken and half a kilo of bacon was suddenly making me feel a little vegetarian. After looking at some old family photos on the ipad (from before DTM was alive) – isn't that what one does when out at dinner? – we got the courtesy bus back home and I left DTM and The Cabbie to work out what to do with the meat.

A fairly quiet Thursday at work topped with a slightly strange dinner out. I was forced to have 3 ciders while watching DTM go through beer after beer and The Cabbie knock down a couple of beers and bottle of wine. For once I didn't feel like a raging alcoholic but understood why DTM might be...

Week 77 - "Are you joking?" & Rachel Zoeing

Thursday #78 – got to work this Thursday morning and saw that my first patient was in her 30s.  Stupidly I assumed this would be fairly straightforward.  As soon as she sat down and said “well I used to wear glasses from when I was 2...” I knew it was going to be anything but straightforward. 

Having a feeling she may be suppressing one eye, I showed her 3 lines – 1 visible only to the right, 1 for the left and a 3^rd that both eyes could see.  When I asked how many she could see she said “two” and then asked me repeatedly if I was joking and whether there were in fact more lines she couldn't see.  I explained the situation and that I was not in fact joking and tried to come up with a solution for her sore eyes.  With her out of the way it was time for a husband and wife team who had both booked in for dilations after I saw them a couple of weeks ago.  After inspecting The Husband's photo after he left last time, I'd decided he should probably come back for this extra test.  None of us are sure why The Wife was asked to come back in too, it certainly wasn't my request but I tested her anyway coz that's just the kind of thorough service I provide.

After lunch (kebab with an easter egg thrown in on the side) I had multiple patients who thought it was ok to be on time to their appointment and then sit there on their phone in the waiting room.  I forgave Lady #1 as she apologised and explained it was about a job interview and she kept her call relatively brief.  Man #2 on the other hand had me furious as he chatted away for 15 minutes, literally half his appointment time and then didn't seem at all apologetic.  I was ready to lose my shit until we discovered at 45 that he was colour blind and I suddenly felt sorry for him.  I guess I'm a little more empathetic to colour vision deficiencies given The Farge has super severe colour blindness as, in hindsight, if he went 40+ years without noticing, it really isn't that much of an issue – at least now he knows why he couldn't see the red scores on the black background at the Australian Open in January.  Just as the lady in the morning had, when I showed him the numbers made out of dots in the colour vision test, he repeatedly asked me if I was joking.  I assured him I was not joking and then he asked me if the numbers were really obvious to me.  Since I was able to see them upside down I had to go with yes, but you kinda feel mean telling patients how easy it is for you when they're struggling.  Such a burden having these perfect eyes.

After work it was over to The BH&G Fan's house to drop off The Scientist's breadmaker.  DTM had borrowed it to make low carb bread (which tastes as exciting as it sounds) but The Scientist needed it back to bake some hot cross buns for Good Friday.  Back at home we had some Thai for din dins and waited for DTM's version of M-Dizzle to come over and watch football.  When he arrived I made myself scarce and headed to the bedroom to watch Katie, Ellen, and The Rachel Zoe Project.  I'm led to believe I didn't miss much with the Sydney FC and Manly games but I did learn a lot from my shows.  For example – Frankie Muniz from Malcolm in the Middle  had a mini stroke last year at the age of 26 and Rachel Zoe (it's pronounced Zo not Zo-ee) isn't as annoying as I thought she would be – she provided me with insights on how to pronounce designers that were otherwise way too much of a mouthful, Giambattista Valli come at me bro!  Who knew that was actually just some dude's name?  Crazy Italians and their names...

After my fix of girly TV I was called back into the theatre room to watch The Checkout – the latest offering from The Chaser Boys on the ABC.  After the show, DTM's version of M-Dizzle left and not long after that I was asleep.  A tough day with patients thinking I was out to trick them but recovered with lots of chocolate and some girly TV – a much needed break from some of the crap DTM has me watch.

Week 76 - Yelling at Patients & Shopping for Bargains

Thursday #77 – Was not keen for work this Thursday as I was fighting off the start of what I was pretty sure was a horrible cold. In reality it soon disappeared and never really eventuated to anything but nonetheless my nose was running like crazy this week.

It was a morning of old people as patient after patient came in with a birthdate from the 1920s. There's only so much glasses can do for these people who are usually also getting by with macular degeneration and/or cataracts. I'm hardly going to recommend surgery for an 87 year old. This made things doubly fun as I already love explaining to patients I can't fix their problem AND I love yelling at semi-deaf patients so this morning of 80+ year olds was like a dream come true – I got to yell at old people to tell them I couldn't help them.

Lunch was a cheeky Oporto as DTM texted to say he was in Warriewood buying an x-box – because sometimes a Wii and Playstation (2 AND 3) just aren't enough. I'm told he plans to use it for health and fitness reasons though this doesn't explain the rejection of my perfectly functional Wii Fit. My patients after lunch were thankfully a little younger and my last patient of the day had a dreamy Irish accent. I've never really considered myself one to go for an Irish accent but this guy had by far the best I've heard. It briefly reminded me of Euro Trip '08 and Legs 11 announcing how much she wanted to go to an Irish wedding as we sat in a bar in Sorrento listening to a drunken group singing Sweet Caroline.

Having received an email about a special shopping event, I had planned to head straight to Chatswood Chase after work to check out Marcs and their 20% off everything sale. DTM had expressed no interest in coming with me until just before 5 when he asked me to come home first so that he could eat dinner and come check out Kmart for some x-box accessory. Since he was cooking I obliged. My quick trip to Marcs was sabotaged when DTM made us go to Kmart AND Target AND The Shaver Shop and probably more places that I don't quite remember. Luckily I was able to pick up a nice skirt (brand spanking new, only in the store for a day) and some Marcs mini M&Ms. I'm not sure why they were giving away tubes of mini chocolates but I wasn't going to question it.

After our big shopping expedition we headed home to test out the x-box. DTM set up an ugly looking Hayley character and wouldn't let me change her hideous outfit. We then played some of the demo dance games – DTM was super proud of his 3 star effort...until I came in and smashed it with 5 stars on the same song. I'm not sure why he would even think he could beat me in a dance off.

Not the most thrilling of Thursdays but a nice little accent and new clothes helped brighten things up.